Sleeping Arrangements
by invisiblelizard
Summary: The Assassins arrive at the hotel they'll be staying at, but there seems to be a problem with the room.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins, nor do I own any of the characters therein._

"Booth get big room," Zangara muttered to himself as he set his bags down. Czolgosz and Guiteau followed him in.

Czolgosz nodded, "Yes, and all to himself."

"Capitalst," Zangara hissed, filling the word with a venom that only he could manage. Guiteau flinched and slid the closet open.

"The bed's too small," Guiteau noticed, grabbing a pillow and sniffing it. "It's clean, at least."

Zangara nodded. Czolgosz set his bags down and cleared his throat.

"I should get bed," Zangara smiled, "Because of stomach."

"But I have back problems," Guiteau lied, "So I should get the bed."

Czolgosz sat on the bed, earning him fierce glares from the other two. "I work. Hard. I get bed."

Zangara growled, "I work."

"So do I," Guiteau pouted.

Czolgosz pointed at Zangara, "You have not worked for two years."

Zangara snorted. "Capitalist."

Czolgosz continued, pointing at Guiteau this time, "You do not work."

"I do too!" Guiteau protested. "I work plenty! I've worked more than you have!"

"Not hard work. You do sissy work."

Guiteau scoffed, "I do the lord's work!"

"You did the lord's work."

"And I will be the ambassador to France!" Guiteau said. His eyes grew a little larger, it seemed, whenever this was brought up, which caused the other Assassins to question his sanity. Then again, the Assassins tended to question each other's sanity a lot. It could very well be because the vast majority of them were stark raving.

It takes a special sort of person to try to kill the president.

Guiteau continued once the awkward silence went on long enough, "I am sure that will be very hard work."

Zangara sneered, "But you is not working yet."

"Well, no," Guiteau conceeded, "not yet. But my back." He whined and rubbed the small of his back. Where this would normally cause some sort of pity however, Czolgosz and Zangara felt none.

Zangara laughed triumphantly, "And bed is large enough to hold two men!"

Czolgosz stood and looked at the bed. It was certainly large enough to accommodate two full-grown men, but not comfortably. Even if Zangara was particularly short.

After some time, Czolgosz shook his head once. "No."

Zangara's usual irritatingly cheerful smile dropped immediately into a confused frown. "What?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"We are not going to share the bed."

"Then I should get the bed."

"Why?"

Zangara grinned, "Because I am willing to share bed, and you not. So I should get bed."

"But there is not much floor space. You should sleep on the floor, then Guiteau still has room."

Guiteau smirked, "I could sleep in the bed--"

Czolgosz and Zangara glared at him and Guiteau stopped talking abruptly.

Zangara crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, "Czolgosz can sleep in closet."

"There is luggage in the closet!"

"Then Czolgosz can sleep on the luggage."

Czolgosz drew a handkerchief from his pocket and seemed to aim it at Zangara. His eyes narrowed and if Zangara had any doubt that his life was in danger, the expression on Czolgosz's face threw it straight out the window. Quickly, Zangara drew his own gun and waved it in Czolgosz's direction. Not one to be left out, Guiteau also drew his gun, but not being in the current argument, he simply aimed it at random and wound up threatening Zangara's suitcase.

Several moments passed. Guiteau grew bored, so he fired his gun. Unfortunately, his aim was true, and Zangara's suitcase grew a bullet hole and skidded several feet across the floor. Zangara yelped, grabbed at his stomach, and also fired a bullet, which found its way near Czolgosz's foot. Czolgosz growled and a third shot rang out, leaving a hole in his handkerchief and a fourth hole in the ceiling. Bits of paint fell into the trio's hair. They panted and glared at each other.

"You had a gun?" Guiteau asked of Czolgosz, gesturing at the handkerchief with his barrel.

"Yes." Czolgosz scoffed.

"Foolish question," Zangara muttered, "Of course Czolgosz have gun. He is Assassin."

"Well, yes, but, the handkerchief," Guiteau continued gesturing.

Czolgosz likely would not have dignified this with a response, but the world just may never know because at that point in time there were three sharp knocks at the door, causing the trio to jump and wave their guns wildly in the direction the noise came from.

Booth's voice followed the knocks, "What th' hell is going on in there?"

"Nothing!" Guiteau shouted. The door opened and Booth sighed.

"Thank God you three are dressed."

Guiteau dropped his weapon, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Booth gestured widely, "Why, exactly, are you shooting at each other?"

The three Assassins immediately burst into a series of excuses at once, and Booth raised a hand. "You first," he pointed at Czolgosz.

"We each want the bed."

Guiteau nodded furiously, "But I can't have the bed, apparently, because I don't work or some nonsense like that--"

Booth glared at Guiteau and he once again stopped talking mid-sentence.

"Zangara?" Booth let his gaze slide over to the Italian.

"I want bed because of stomach. Can't sleep on floor, hurts stomach. Czolgosz want bed because he work hard. I fine with Czolgosz have bed, can fit two people, I say, but Czolgosz want bed for himself. Capitalist."

Booth shook his head, "Can't any of you ever sort anything out without resorting to violence?"

The trio glanced at each other and came to a silent agreement. "No," Guiteau shrugged.

Booth rolled his eyes, "Look, you'll all just have to share the bed. If any of you are uncomfortable sleeping with someone else, you'll just have to sleep on the floor, pain or no. Now do be quiet, some of us have already sorted this out and gone to sleep."

With that, Booth left and shut the door behind him.

"It's hot." Guiteau whined.

"Shut up," Zangara growled. "You no like bed, sleep on floor. Is fine by me."

"How did I end up in the middle?" Guiteau continued whining.

"You drew short straw," Czolgosz said. "Now be quiet. Go to sleep."


End file.
